Harry Potter and the Invisible Mirror
by Aeria
Summary: Harry is preparing to return to Hogwarts for his sixth year but several factors, in particular, disappearances, will hinder this and force him to work harder than ever to find the answers to his questions. This will develop into the Adventure/Drama/Romanc
1. Default Chapter

Well, I have finally pulled myself together and sat down to write something decent. This is unusual for me, but once I start you'll probably get a lot out of me. So...read on, this will develop a lot, I think. And will include every character you would expect of a book etc, etc, etc. Please read and review 'cause that's why I write and I do love responses. The story is basically a version of what I think the sixth book might be like.  
  
Chapter One  
  
Faster.  
  
He had to fly faster and better and straighter. But most importantly, he had to fly faster. With his eyes closer to almost slits against the harsh wind and his body lying flat against the broom stick, he flew lower to the ground. He dodged one of the prim and proper trees as he neared his destination. For a split second, he realised he wasn't sure where he was going but then he remembered why: Sirius and the thought of where was gone.  
  
Sirius was in trouble and he needed Harry's help. This one simple notion urged him on, his firebolt sped up another notch despite the pull that the air was having. Harry closer his eyes fully, squeezing them shut as the tears leaked out. He was going to be too late. He always was. But he could never stop.  
  
Turning right as his eyes sprung open he suddenly found himself in that same dark room with the tiered steps and the arch settled quietly in the middle. And there was Sirius. Kneeling in the centre of the room, barely an inch between himself and the arch. Harry stood just inside the door, feet locked to the ground as he begged the universe to let him run forward. But he couldn't. Instead he was screaming with all his might for Sirius to get away. But he didn't seem to hear that either, or Harry's voice wouldn't work, either way, Sirius obviously couldn't hear.  
  
Harry stoped screaming, utterly helpless as he watched the one person left on the earth that he loved lean forward, his finger inching towards the arch with a mixture of what appeared to be curiosity and daring until it was through. Harry could still see it, it hadn't disappeared and it hadn't been distorted or passed through some weird liquid layer. It was just there. Harry's face fell as he realised what this meant, it meant that he was about to loose Sirius forever...again because there was no warning sign, it just happened, one minute it was a normal arch, the next you were gone.  
  
And as Sirius dived through the barrier, disappearing from sight, Harry left screaming on his knees, he awoke in a cold sweat in his own bed, at home, no arch or veil or Sirius to be seen. He was sitting bolt upright, the white sheet tangled around his legs, his heart still pounding in his throat, a droplet of sweat falling down the side of his face and onto the bed sheets as the reason he had been awoken from the nightmare was repeated as a harsh, loud knocking rang out from where the door stood.  
  
"Coming," Harry yelled out to his uncle, quickly climbing out of the bed and stumbling blindly over to the desk. He snatched his glasses up and placed them on the bridge of his nose, his eyes finally focusing as he looked around the room for a shirt to throw on. He smiled grimly. If only one good thing had come out of the entire fiasco of his fifth year at Hogwarts it was the slight change in the way he was treated during the holidays. When he was at home, as Dumbledore would call it.  
  
He had a lovely room upstairs, still not as good as Dudley's and with far fewer possessions but far better than his old cupboard under the stairs. He had a small television that only picked up two channels and a little radio. His bed finally had a proper mattress and two nice fluffy pillows. The walls, he'd painted a deep shade of blue after dragging up the courage to ask for paint and being shocked, almost off his feet, when his aunt had curtly nodded and gone and gotten him the paint and brushes.  
  
Finding the shirt he'd been looking for, he pulled it on over his head, pulling it down to his boxer shorts which he quickly covered with a pair of jeans that he found lying on the floor. He rushed out the door, meeting his overgrown cousin at the head of the stairs. Staring at each other for a second, Harry bolted down the stairs in front of Dudley, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he heard, rather than saw, him come stumbling after him.  
  
Slowing outside the kitchen, Harry walked in looking as bright as usual and hiding with in himself. He kept out of the way, still not seen by anyone in the house and ignored when he was there. The subtle differences that had come into play after the warning presented to Veron and Petunia were present however in Harry's breakfast which already lay on the table, aside from the other three but laden with pancakes and bacon.  
  
He ate in silence, his mind working to dispel the dream which he had expected he would experience as he had lain down the night before. He'd had one, much simular, every night since his return, so why should that night have been any different? He had expected he would grow used to them over time, that he would become desensitized and that they would become easier and easier to forget. Quite the opposite had occurred. He was still waking in fits and cold sweats, his scar would prickle for no obvious reason and the dreams were becoming more vivid. He was not desensitizing, but instead growing more anxious to return to school so that he might have the chance to talk it over with Hermione and Ron and perhaps even Dumbledore, though he wasn't sure he was prepared to talk to him at all. Anyway, he needed a cure; he needed to escape the dreams, the memories, no matter how he did it.  
  
Gobbling down the last piece of bacon, he wondered again why he was getting no replies from his two best friends. In three weeks, he had heard neither hide nor hair from them and he was beginning to worry. Hermione had stated in her second last letter that her family was planning on a trip overseas but that was no excuse and Ron, he knew, should still have been at the Burrow.  
  
He sighed heavily, earning himself a distasteful glare from his uncle whose frown morphed into a sneer as he heard a scuffle upstairs. Harry jumped up at once, knowing that it had to be a school owl, finally arriving with his book lists and such. He raced up the stairs, intent on his glimmer of hope being there, on his window sill. It was strange, really; he had expected the owl about two weeks before and now there was only a couple of days before he was due to get on the train. Even Petunia had brought it up at dinner a few nights ago to which Harry had only been able to shrug.  
  
He honestly had no idea what was going on, perhaps there had been a mix up in which case he would just have to turn up at the train station and hope for the best. He was sure that once at Hogwarts all the problems of missing books and new robes could be fixed up. He dispelled the thoughts from his mind as he turned into his room, ready to see one of the brown owls from school waiting for him. To his dismay, this was not what was sitting on his window sill.  
  
Usually I'd write about 1500-2000 per chapter, but I tried to keep this short cause that way you wouldn't get bored. Please review so I know what you want to see and whether or not this is worth continuing. Thanks, Donna. 


	2. Owlless

Chapter Two  
  
Instead, there was Hedwig, sitting on the blue window sill, cooing softly to show her presence and as a sign that she wasn't moving until she was given a good hello. Sighing softly, Harry walked over and gently smoothed back her slightly ruffled feathers for her. He smiled, half heartedly, and peered out the window at the symmetrical street below.  
  
It was three days later that Harry awoke, again face down and sweaty in bed, but his mind was instantly on another fact: it was the September the First and it was eight am. He looked to his window but there was nothing. Bolting upright, he quickly threw on his glasses and a pair of pants. Running down the stairs, he earned himself another dirty look from the family as he grabbed some toast, still missing a shirt and his hair messier than ever.  
  
He ran back upstairs, still hoping for an owl to come swooping in with some explanation, but there was none. He shook his head, anger rising again from deep in his gut and directed towards no one in particular. But he held it down and instead quickly opened his trunk, throwing in the book he'd been studying the night before and slamming it shut.  
  
He walked downstairs, as quietly as he could while hauling the trunk over his shoulder and listening to Hedwig's shrieks of injustice as she surmised that she was being left behind. Dumping his luggage on the front doorstep, his aunt, uncle and cousin appeared in the kitchen doorway, bemused expressions plain on their faces. Veron went to open his mouth but before he could speak, Harry was back up the stairs and less than five seconds later was standing at the door with Hedwig's cage under his arm and awkwardly staring back at the three Dursleys. He smiled, lopsidedly at them and gave a quick wave before turning around and quickly walking out the door. In one hand he held his trunk, in the other he held Hedwig, completely ready to leave the house and return to school.  
  
"Wait right there young man," his uncle's voice boomed behind him.  
  
Harry turned slowly on the footpath, not really wanting to have to answer any questions as he had very few answers as to what was going on. "Yes?"  
  
"Where do you think you're going?"  
  
"I have to go to school..." Harry trailed off and in the second of hesitation that his uncle gave him he turned to the footpath and threw out his hand, having grabbed his wand from the pocket of his jeans, in a signal he'd learnt by accident only a couple of years ago.  
  
Seeing this, the Dursleys quickly took a step back, his aunt's voice shaking, "Harry, what are you doing?"  
  
Harry stared at her, hard, and summing up an answer he was ready to state when a familiar bus rocketed up the drive, stopping a few inches away from Harry. He grinned for the first time in weeks as the door swung open, revealing old faces and familiar surroundings. Harry turned around as he got on the bus, the doors already closing, Putting his trunk down, he waved at the shocked three and quietly said, more to himself than to them, "Good Bye."  
  
Arriving at the train station, Harry got off the bus happily, waving goodbye again, to the several people he had talked to on the way. He walked into the main area, hoping to spot a friend from Hogwarts that he might be able to talk to and walk with to the platform. Looking around, however, he found himself very much alone, and looking down at his watch, he knew why: it was still only 9.20 in the morning and there was still a good hour and a half before the train left.  
  
Shrugging, he wandered over to the little café and bought himself a coffee and a muffin, having only had half a piece of toast for breakfast. Deep in the pit of his stomach, alarm bells were ringing. He felt them there but wasn't prepared to do or say anything, even to himself and so blamed the gut feeling that had been right up until his last year of Hogwarts, on the muffin.  
  
Wandering around, he felt eyes staring at him and his snowy white owl and while he had no problem with this and was, indeed, growing quite used to it, he knew that to get in trouble with the Ministry would be a stupid move to make. So, quietly he made his way to platform nine and ten and, letting his eyes wander over the few people, waited patiently until a train was pulling in on platform ten to push through the brick barrier.  
  
He wasn't sure what he had expected on the other side and so when all he found was a deserted platform, not a train or person in sight, he put the fact down to it still being too early, and sat himself down with Hedwig and his trunk to wait for the arrival of his peers and the train which would carry him away from home and towards Hogwarts.  
  
Sitting there, he soon grew bored and pulled out the book he'd been given the year before about hexes and jinxes. He buried his nose in the already well read pages and it wasn't until he looked up, quite a while later that he realised he was still alone and that it was now 10.30.  
  
Thinking hard, Harry tried to remember having ever been to the station by 10.30 and realising he always turned up late, he shrugged and once again ignored the warning his gut was issuing him with.  
  
Sighing, he looked up from his book for the final time and seeing no one anywhere near by, he looked down at his watch. It was ten to eleven and there should have been people around. There definitely should have been people around by now. Standing up he left his trunk and owl sitting there as he moved off to survey the platform, wondering whether he had gotten his days mixed up.  
  
Thanks for the reviews, loved em, need more though, I love love love them. 


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